The meeting took place from Friday July 29 to Saturday July 30, 2016, at De Vere Venues, Staverton Park, Staverton, Northamptonshire, UK.

Days before the event, a final list of who would attend was sent. They all wanted to look their best when arriving at the meeting to impress their colleagues, many of whom they had not seen in thirty years, since they graduated from medical school.

In Australia, Switzerland, Canada, Nigeria and the United States of America, colleagues packed their bags. Anticipation reached a crescendo. The women bought sparkly dresses and the men shaved and dyed their hair. Only Moses left his gray hair going crazy, for which he won the Wisdom Hair award.

When we got to the De Vere locations, matching all the names on the list to all the faces on the ground turned out to be a chore. Unless friends revealed themselves, they were strangers.

In the middle of Saturday afternoon, Salako, rector of the Faculty of Medicine, at the speaking podium, looked at a man who had entered the auditorium. The man wore a brown domed hat. ‘The hat’, confessed the stranger, ‘hides poorly dyed gray hair’. Sympathy and laughter welcomed him.

After the ‘Remember to give back Alma Mata’ speech, people zigzagged through the hotel lobby looking for classmates.

Have you seen Fred Akpochafo? asked a sharp-eyed, smiling, toothy man in glasses, with an easy smile and a lively speech. “I’m Fred,” replied the guy with the glasses.

After mutual recognition, Chinwe Nwokoma and Fred assaulted each other in fifteen-minute bear hugs and handshakes, after which both men suffered a dislocation of their elbows.

Did you see Ntekim Bassey? the guy with badly dyed hair asked Barry. A hoarse voice replied, “I saw it half a second ago.”

The more people talked, the more certain they were that a particular voice belonged to a particular colleague.

Ayo and I had exchanged many emails, but until Saturday I was unable to match the person with the name. However, it remained blurry in my memory. We continued exchanging handshake strokes and hugs throughout the night, waiting for a complete memory dump.

Each handshake tugged at the memory. Each hug recruited more sleeping neurons. Yes! He is Ayo, his voice never left. It was just hidden, somewhere in the nuggets of the hippocampus. The same experience happened with Benjamin Oke, I think.

More mental authentication occurred lazily when I saw Ajibola and Osahon, Mase and Mojisola, Adebayo, Prof. Musa, Pal Loolo, Man Jaji and Evelyn, Kehinde and Sammy Best, Chuks, Essein, Tony N. and Taiwo. Peter Olukowi almost slipped away. “My father is Henry Akpabio,” a boy told me.

I will never forget people like President Yemi, Obi, Abolade, Emeka, Bolo, Onome, Peter Eweje, Ngozi and Vero.

By Saturday night, seventy percent of the class had been identified. The discoveries continued over dinner. Sunday morning and afternoon saw new revelations.

If Leslie took over Friday night for her perfect poses, then Goze celebrated Saturday night for her dance. Austin, Bhardwaj, Yinka, Titi George, Dayo, Ifeoma and Adanna tried very hard to match him. If Roro or Olaopa had been there, they would have given him a chance for his moves.

No one could get enough of each other. The guy with the badly dyed hair hugged Emma Nnopu thirty times to make up for the thirty years they hadn’t seen each other.

During dinner, more surprises appeared like forgotten bills. Hands exchanged awards. A rain of money rained down on a baby. Members of the Adanta dance group soar through the air like adolescent eagles. An artist who transferred two fast-spinning aluminum basins from his little fingers to broomsticks kept us on our toes for seven hours.

Except for a cashew-colored mustache, Peter Olumese remained the same in physique and character and was rewarded. And for flattering Professor Cole, Leex and his group won a group contest.

“There he is,” said the man with the badly dyed hair when he finally saw Ntekim Bassey.

“Anselm, you’ve been looking for me, I get it,” Bassey said.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen you in thirty years.”

Suddenly the torsos, hands, and shoulders were brought together several times. Except for ten, maybe fifteen pounds of weight gain, Ntekim hadn’t changed one iota. Later, in an unchanging, even, confident tone, he chatted with the ever-graceful Moji, O.

The way Olamide and his team were able to stretch the funds to the level of fun we had is mind blowing. Prestige!

Before the trip, I made labels with the names of each person on the list, not knowing the faces that would occupy so many labels. No longer. Every face is on my conscience.

For two reasons, the London event would be hard to beat. Dancing legs haven’t reached a breaking point yet, but they will be soon. Second, almost everyone has been discovered within fifteen years since the meeting began in Memphis, Tennessee. If colleagues who have not yet attended show up at the next event, then all bets are off.

Thanks to the prayers, led by Morafa and Dave, all the heavenly stars aligned in harmony.

Final